


Starlight

by lameafpun



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gowns, Hogwarts, Reader-Insert, Romance, Yule Ball, elegant af, reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 21:03:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10907421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lameafpun/pseuds/lameafpun
Summary: Newton Artemis Fido Scamander. A mouthful of a name, that was for sure. You'd be hard-pressed to find someone who actually knew the entirety of his name excluding, of course, his parents. Everyone else on the street knew him only as ‘that boy,’ or ‘Theseus’s little brother.’You called him ‘horse boy.’





	Starlight

Newton Artemis Fido Scamander. A mouthful of a name, that was for sure. You'd be hard-pressed to find someone who actually knew the entirety of his name excluding, of course, his parents. Everyone else on the street knew him only as ‘that boy,’ or ‘Theseus’s little brother.’

You called him ‘horse boy.’ ‘Horse boy’ because ‘hippogriff boy’ was too much.

Your mother and his were friends, you had spent much time at their house when your parents went out for date night. His mother would take you both out to where she bred (this word meant nothing to you as a child, but it amused your young mind to think of flying loaves of bread as your parents tried to explain her occupation to you in vain) hippogriffs. You would watch her in awe, sat down on the forest floor far away from the ‘horses’ as she worked. They were graceful, elegant, and they had wings. You daydreamed of riding on the backs of one, one day. 

One day, it got into your head that Newt himself was allowed to ride them and in a particularly mean mood one day, that nickname was born. Newt, being such an quiet, awkward child, didn’t say anything to the contrary. 

The arrangement worked the other way as well, unfortunately for Newt who was subject to afternoons of playing out various tales from Beedle the Bard. 

 

And so, naturally, you two became best friends. (The classic childhood friend trope, but it was a trope for a reason.) You stopped calling him ‘horse boy’.

 

Over the years, your little hang outs with Newt became less a thing born out of necessity and more out of deriving actual pleasure from each others presence. You liked his knowledge about magical creatures (and were more than a little jealous of it) and he liked the way you told stories. Even for an eleven year old, you had an amazing ability to weave tales that made Newt feel like he was living it along with you. Stories about great adventures, adventurers who traveled all across the world and discovered something new. You also told some stories about dragon slayers who used their magic, wit and skill to kill the dragon and save the maiden. 

Newt wasn’t a very big fan of those ones. At the sight of his pained face as you described the wizard’s spells cutting into the dragon’s tough hide, you panicked. The story would always end with the dragon flying off, free, into the sunset. 

Newt loved those endings.

 

You and Newt got your Hogwarts letters the same day in the summer. It had been unbearably hot and the owls looked ragged, so Newt and you had set up a little birdbath with a platter of dead mice on the side (that had been set up by Newt's mother).

A few days after, after the initial celebratory party your parents threw for the both of you, you and Newt went to Diagon Alley together. You sprinted from one shop to another, Newt’s gangly form already tall, taller than you thought you’d ever be, strides ahead of you. 

 

When the day finally came to go to Hogwarts, you and Newt stayed up all the night before, too excited to go to sleep. His parents had let him sleep over. When the morning came and Newt was still talking about the Crup he’d seen in the forest the other day, and staunchly defending Dugbogs, you realized only as the sun was lighting up your room that you’d been talking all night. Yet, the sparkle in Newt’s eyes as he talked about the creatures had never faded. 

 

When the sorting hat had been placed onto Newt’s unruly brown hair, no hush had fallen over the crowd but everything around you had blurred, faded away to nothing. For some reason you just felt so anxious about this. 

“Hufflepuff!” The sorting hat had called out, and Newt had lifted the hat off his head with quick, somewhat jerky movements. His hazel eyes had connected with yours as soon as the hat had come off, and you had grinned crazily, applauding him madly. 

The blush hadn’t gone unnoticed and you knew he hated unnecessary attention, but the small, bashful smile on his face that persisted until even after he had sat down was worth it. 

 

Each of you adjusted to the new atmosphere of Hogwarts at your own speed, but you knew if Newt hadn’t been there it wouldn’t have felt as much as home as it did. You spent your evenings after classes in the library with him. You’d read folktales and stories about adventurers while Newt read great big volumes on creatures that would thump down onto the table when he finally managed to finagle it out of the shelf. 

First year ended quicker than it should have. 

 

Second year started with the same excitement as the last. You and Newt stayed up all the previous night, he too excited to sleep because he’d be able to take care of magical creatures, oh (name) this is going to be wonderful!, and ended up sleeping the whole train ride. 

Waking up warm leaning against Newt, breathing in the leafy, nature-like smell of him made your heart swell. 

 

The middle of second year, Newt met someone named Leta. You liked her. She was nice and shared her chocolate frogs with you and got the same sparkle in her eye whenever she and Newt talked about magical creatures. He told you one night in the library in a hushed whisper that he felt they shared something - an outside-ness. You couldn’t help but feel guilty at that. At the same time that year you had started to form another group of friends, apart from Newt. 

Leta, though, was the only other girl you felt close to. Newt sometimes joked with a shaky, nervous smile that one day you two were going to gang up on him. You’d glance at each other and roll your eyes good-humoredly. 

 

Third year, the wonder still hadn’t faded. Embarrassing personal, teenage things had started happening but you hadn’t let that get in the way. Newt’s voice had started cracking. (You didn’t have the heart to tease him about it, too embarrassed about the new training bra your mother had bought you)

You ended up falling asleep on the train again, and waking up on Newt. His robes had been soft and smelled like fabric softener, but the smell of green and plants and poultices and feathers was still there under all of that. You smiled all the way to the carriages. 

Leta started dating someone. She met him after he had bumped into her inside one of the pubs, spilling his butterbeer all over her robes. 

They were perfect together. 

 

Fourth year started just the same as the last. The wonder had never faded even after four years, even though you came from a wizarding family. Newt had also been anxious all summer, itching to get back to his creatures. (“We’re going to be learning about Nifflers this year, (name) - and unicorns!”) There was another reason why he was so excited to go back to Hogwarts - you had been gone all nearly summer, sent to a muggle summer camp with a writing program. 

He’d missed you. 

 

Leta was still dating the boy. On their anniversary, they went back to Hogsmeade and the boy - his name was Vincent - joked about spilling another tankard of butterbeer on Leta’s robes. 

 

Fifth year was the year Newt had shot up. His voice had deepened a bit, and he’d also been plagued with light acne for the first half. So had you, and it was a point of contention that you both (well, mostly you) moaned about throughout the year. It wasn’t like you didn’t notice the changes in Newt but there had been one day in the summer that Newt’s mother had invited you over to look at old pictures. When she’d flipped through the pictures taken before your first day of Hogwarts, you couldn’t help but glance at Newt and then back at the picture, your mouth open in a silent ‘o’. It was like time had whirled around you, transforming Newt before your very eyes. Years of growth going by all at once. 

His dark brown hair had lightened over the years after years outside taking care of his creatures. Not a lot, but enough that gave it a sheen, a hint of red. He himself had gotten taller, though he wasn’t as gangly as he was. His cheeks were thinner, in the process of losing the last bits of baby fat - he looked like an adult. 

Like he had grown up. (of course, you were still only fifteen but the changes still made you more emotional)

 

In the middle of fifth year, the Yule Ball had been announced. Leta had announced to you and Newt later that week that Vincent had asked her to the dance with a bouquet of enchanted flowers that spelled out ‘Will you go with me to the Yule Ball, Leta?’ with pink, red and white petals. She showed it off to you both ecstatically, pointedly staring at Newt as she nearly shoved the mass of flowers into his face. 

She handed the whole thing to you, narrowing her eyes at Newt while you were distracted by the beautiful bouquet. Red roses, of course, pink acacias, and white peonies with baby’s breath sprinkled occasionally around the edges of the bouquet. 

“Ask her.” Leta mouthed at Newt, motioning to you with her head, dark eyes blazing. Newt stared up at her while shrinking down into his seat, his tall frame melting into the wooden bench. 

“I don’t know how.” He mouthed back meekly. Leta glanced up to the ceiling and sighed, resigned. Newt glanced back to the bouquet; Vincent’s mother was a florist and he’d been trained in flower language (as well as finance - he wanted to take over the shop when he was older) and suddenly, Newt had an idea. 

 

The day of the Yule Ball came. A few friends had asked you to go with them but you’d held out hope that Newt would ask you. 

He didn’t. 

“Leta, does he not like me?” There had been many conversations like this over the years between you and her, and Leta had to hold in an exasperated groan. If only you two would talk to each other properly - ! 

Leta sighed, the brush she’d been using for you hair halting. Her own dark locks had been styled into curls that fell, cascading, down her back. 

“You know better than anyone that Newt’s shy.” It was a non-answer, and Leta said it through gritted teeth. Your hands fidgeted in your lap; you were fighting to keep from fisting the delicate fabric of your dress. It wrinkled easily and you wanted to look perfect at the Yule Ball. 

Leta was wearing an emerald green, sleeveless, ruffled floor length satin ball gown. It had a v cut neckline and a cinched waist that highlighted her figure, but was modest enough that her mother hadn’t put up too much of a fuss. It looked like something a princess would wear. 

She finished brushing your hair and together, you headed to the Ball. 

 

Newt had been standing at the foot of the great staircase, pulling and adjusting his dress robes. They were ‘stylish’ (they’d been Theseus’s) but uncomfortable and scratchy. He’d really rather be in his regular robes. The bow tie was nice, though. 

As he stood there, waiting for Leta and you, Vincent walked up to him looking unruffled and downright dashing in his dark dress robes. His light blond hair had been cut a few days earlier and styled into a pompadour, his skin clear and dewy. There was an infectious smile on his face and Newt found his lips twitching up into a half smile. 

“Hey, Newt!” Vincent slapped his back in greeting, dislodging a rib - or it felt like it, at least. “Waiting for Leta and (name)?” 

Newt nodded quickly, his eyes glancing everywhere except at Vincent’s eyes as he rubbed his forearms nervously. 

“Oh, there they - Oh.” Vincent’s breathless exhale made Newt tilt his head inquisitively, but when he turned around he let out an ‘Oh’ of his own, the air stolen directly from his lungs. 

Leta was beautiful in her emerald green dress, her porcelain skin and dark locks absolutely stunning but she faded away when he saw you. You trailed after Leta, shy, but you were radiant. Your (h/l) (h/c) hair had been styled by Leta, and your face was glowing. The dress you were wearing looked like it had been made to be worn by you. The cut was similar to Leta’s, fitted at the waist and a flared skirt that brushed the floor. The sleeves and bodice was lace, covered by a simply elegant jacket with flared sleeves. 

“Oh.” Newt breathed again, eyes completely glued to you. Next to him, Vincent’s hadn’t left Leta. 

Leta and you reached the bottom of the stairs. She held your hand and dragged you over to Newt and Vincent before disappearing into the Hall with her boyfriend.

You couldn’t keep your eyes off Newt. You half expected him to just be out tending to his creatures or something like that and you said so. 

“Ah, yes well- “ He mumbled unintelligibly through that, eyes shifting around nervously. The little script he'd written out for himself and memorized was escaping him and the enchanted little hippogriff figurine suddenly didn't seem like such a good idea. His hands were shaking - oh god, he shouldn't have done this, he should have stayed in the Hufflepuff dorms or gone to the owlery or taken care of the creatures - 

The distressed twist of his thinning lips, the shifting of his beautiful hazel eyes that he refuses to meet yours with, draws a tender sigh from you. Slowly, you glide close to him and take his hand; he clearly wasn’t going to enjoy himself here. 

“Do you want to show me the bowtruckles? I heard that Professor keeps them in an jar that he put an extension charm on!” 

 

The bowtruckles were adorable. However, the jar had been just a regular jar, which was disappointing. You’d wandered around the castle before settling on one of the benches in the courtyard, the sky dark but full of stars and a moon that shone, illuminating the square. The bench was stony and uncomfortable and cold seeped into your legs through your dress but sitting next to Newt, his thigh touching yours ever so slightly, talking about Diricrawls and the muggle world and what careers you were going to pursue after graduating from Hogwarts, made you feel as if a hearth was burning away in your body. 

Newt had told you with absolute certainty that he was going to be a Magizoologist. His conviction was impressive, and you envied him for it. 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do - god, what if I end up just flunking out?” 

Newt placed a hand over yours, the physical contact making his heart pound in his chest and the blood rush to his face. Your eyes were wide, pools of (e/c) staring up at him. His face was so close to yours and he let his eyes trail down your features. 

“You’re one of the smartest people that I know - you’ll get all E’s, I know you will.” 

“Aw, thanks Newt!” You enveloped him in a hug, the fabric of your dress rustling with the movement. His dress robes were rough against your face and the light makeup you’d put on earlier (with help from Leta) was sure to migrate. You only hugged him tighter, the scent of Newt surrounding you. Suddenly, it was like you were back on that rain second year with your heart swelling and bursting with affection. 

The hug goes on, neither one of you wanting (or willing) to be the first one to let go. 

When you finally do, you let your arms entwine, your body leans against his, and your head rests on his shoulder. The night stretches on, until Newt clears his throat. 

"I, um - for you." He reaches into his pocket, drawing out something that looks to be a small hippogriff. Its feathers were a warm, reddish brown, eyes sparkling with an intelligence that feels so familiar. 

He holds it in his hand delicately - it couldn't have been taller than two inches or longer than three - and lets it trot over to your upheld hand. 

"They're gorgeous." You breathe, watching as the small hippogriff preens its feathers proudly. 

"You can pick out a name - I mean, if you want to I've just been calling her Jane but -" 

"I love her." You assure Newt, whose face has begun to flame red. 

The hand that isn't being held by you fidgets with his dress robes and before he can run out of courage he squeezes his eyes shut and speaks. 

“So, I know it’s quite late and the only thing playing in the Hall isn’t going to be the music that you usually like but -“ Newt stands up from the bench abruptly and the warmth leaks away, but then he’s holding out a hand to you. You blink slowly, staring at his palm, but slide your hand into his. He smiles softly at you, still feeling unsure but draws you close, and your heart is beating so fast you think he can probably feel it through his robes. 

 

Your first kiss is under the starlight, with a soft spoken, awkward boy that twirls you around the courtyard like a princess. 

 

Your first kiss is under the moonlight, sweet like him and light, something promising about it - something that promises more to come. 

 

Your first kiss is magical. 


End file.
